


A Bitter Past (I'll be Good)

by donutsweeper



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Flash Fic, Guilt, I’ll be Good - Jaymes Young, M/M, Scars, Self-Hatred
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-12
Updated: 2019-08-12
Packaged: 2020-08-23 20:10:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 375
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20210314
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/donutsweeper/pseuds/donutsweeper
Summary: Sometimes Bucky couldn't help but think back on all the damage he'd done.





	A Bitter Past (I'll be Good)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [seinmit](https://archiveofourown.org/users/seinmit/gifts).

> Listen to the song that prompted this story, "I’ll be Good" by Jaymes Young, [here.](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=scd-uNNxgrU)

One thing that wasn't well known about Steve and the transformation he went through as a result of the serum and vita-rays was that he never scarred anymore. Every injury he'd gotten since he'd become a Super Soldier had, eventually, healed up perfectly. Most people bore evidence of the life they lived on their skin, carrying any number of scars and bumps and rough spots that were left behind as a result of the trials and tribulations of how they spent their days. But not Steve. Sometimes, while Steve slept, Bucky found himself tracing the places where he knew those scars should be. 

The bullet graze to the side, point blank, but all that could be managed when more deadly shots were blocked by the shield.

The slice across the forearm. A minor wound in the grand scheme of things since Steve's gloves had been thick enough to provide some protection, but he could still remember the difference between the feel of the blade going through the leather and when it was cutting skin.

The deep, ugly stab wound to the shoulder. He'd pushed that knife in deep, all the way to the hilt.

The bullet to the back of the thigh; his angle had been bad or he'd have managed to break the femur.

The entrance wound, lower back, with matching exit wound, midriff. Center mass. 

And then there was his face.

Steve's perfect face.

How many times had he punched it? A metal fist could do so much damage. Did so much damage.

Nights like this he couldn't help but remember how Steve had looked on the riverbank. Limp. Unnaturally pale. The blood and bruising standing out, a testament to what he'd done— 

"Bucky?" Barely awake, the voice was a husky, quiet rasp. "You okay?"

"I'm fine, Steve, go back to sleep." 

Blue slits regarded him for a moment before Steve tapped his chest twice and held out his arm in open invitation. "Come on, lie down."

After curling up next to Steve on the bed Bucky felt a gentle kiss being pressed into his hair as he lay his head down on Steve's chest; the steady thumping heartbeat was a soothing balm, doing what it could to keep his demons at bay.


End file.
